“Keanu Reeves. He was in here the other night. Must have been filming nearby and he came in for a pint of Guinness. They like to try things, don’t they?”

“Who do?”

“Celebrities.”

“Is he a celebrity then? I’ve never heard of him. What’s he called?”

“Keanu Reeves. He was in The Matrix.”

“What’s that?”

“It’s a film. Well, there are three of them. Matrix One. Matrix Two. Matrix Three. He was in them all.”

“Any good?”

“Yeah. Well, it depends if you like that sort of thing.”

“I don’t know. Never seen them.”

“He’s been in other things.”

The punter absorbed this news in silence.

“Well, anyhow, he was in here the other night. Had a pint of Guinness. He left a bit in the bottom and Alan said ‘Do you dare me to drink that?’ So Jack said he’d put three quid in the charity box if he drank it. So he did. Then Tom said we should auction it off, for charity. Keanu Reeves’ pint pot. We got ten pounds thirty for it. So thanks to Keanu Reeves, we raised thirteen pounds thirty for charity. Mike bought it, but he forgot it, so it’s waiting for him, the next time he comes in. So there it is, Keanu Reeves’ pint pot.”

The punter gazed inscrutably up at the pint pot wrapped in a plastic bag. “Thirteen pounds thirty?” He shook his head incredulously, as if for him this was the most amazing part of the whole affair.